The Ruby Ranks
by Unrelatable to reality
Summary: Imperial Praefect Cius Denmar is the best swordsman the Legion has, well, aside from the Dragonborn, Gala Stonerock. The two of them fight the stormcloaks side by side throughout the waning months of the war, never losing a battle, not even off of Tamriel. (Percy x Gala) (Rated T for minor swearing and violence) (I obviously own neither of these products.)
1. Chapter One

Cius sat bored in the Pale Camp, sharpening his sword on the grindstone and pedaling through the dull, blank day.

Cius Denmar was an Imperial Praefect in Tamriel's Imperial Legion. He was held in high regard by the upper echelon for being an efficient swordsman, and his skill was, for the most part, unmatched.

He didn't care much for praise. He was just an Imperial boy with a bad memory and a thick skull who wanted to help keep Skyrim for the legion.

His heavy steel shoulder pads started tiring his arms as he continued to sharpen his blade, as the lacking day bore on.

"Hey Denmar, take a look at this." Heming shouted, another Imperial soldier, of the rank of Quaestor, as he held a browning linen poster.

Cius stopped sharpening his sword and stood up, walking over to Heming while his feet sank into the snow.

"They're looking for guards for this thing, it'd probably be more exciting then sitting around waiting for orders here." Heming said, passing him the poster.

"Yeah, weddings aren't my thing. Even if it's..." Cius scanned the paper," "Oh, that's a lot of gold."

"I know, right? It shouldn't be too hard, it's in Solitude after all." Heming remarked.

"It's also Vittoria Vici, the Emperor's... sister? Right?" Cius responded.

"Cousin, actually." Heming corrected. "I might do this. I'd like to see if anything could be better than that right now."

"Well, I better get back to sharpening swords before I get my hands cut off by the legate." Cius joked turning back around to the grind stone.

"I thought you were just sharpening your sword."

He was just sharpening his sword indeed.

The carriage to Winterhold was a long ride for Captain Gala, especially after the carriage was attacked by bandits, more than once.

Gala had enlisted in the Legion just a few months prior to being promoted to Captain, along with her job in saving the world, the Dragonborn wanted to save the Empire too, which she did first.

Well, she was trying to, at least.

Things got quite difficult regaining the Pale when her carriage wheels fell off for the second time.

"By Ysmir, just let us walk the rest of the way, wood brain." Gala groaned to the driver, Tavan Maplewood, a wood elf from the city of Kvatch in Cyrodiil.

"Of course not, Captain! The risks of an enemy ambush on this road is extremely high!" Tavan replied.

The nord Captain rubbed her temples before groaning, and jumping off the carriage with a lightning speed "Wuld!" to continue the path to the camp on her own, for now, at least.

She came across a tower with a ruined caravan up the road, atop an icy hill, where she stopped to gather herself for the few hundred meters left to the camp.

"Captain! Captain! Wait for us!" Gala heard from behind her, as she whipped around and saw Tavan running up the hill, soldiers in tow.

"I see you've come to your senses." She joked.

"Well I am known to be adept in most fields, ma'am." Tavan responded.

"Yeah, almost as adept as Gullar when he fell off a cliff." A soldier joked, as the rest of the soldiers chuckled.

"In my defense, it was a mediocre dive." Another soldier, Gullar, responded.

"Pipe down, lads. The camps just down this hill." Gala ordered to shut them up.

"Might I suggest-"

"No, Tavan. We're not "surfing on our shields", and we never will." Gullar shouted.

"I was going to say "we hunt for food for the camp", but fine. Be that way." Tavan grunted.

"In the last letter I got from Legate Rikke, she said that wasn't needed, now get moving down to that camp." Gala ordered.

The men started marching down the incline on the icy fields, and around the waters, as they made a small detour around a bandit encampment to save them trouble, as they made their uneventful walk to the Pale's Imperial Camp.

Gala was at the fore-rank of the group as they marched into the camp to get acquainted with the other soldiers.

As they settled in, an Imperial boy eased the grind-stone to a halt.

He brandished his freshly sharpened steel blade contemptibly in front of him, swinging it a few times in the air, before sheathing it away on his left hip, and sitting down by the fire pit.

Gala watched the ordeal with interest, as there wasn't anything better to do, before standing up and strolling over to the fire pit, as the eve rolled in, and the aurora light up the night sky.

"Good evening, ma'am." The boy said, respect and humor mixed in his tone.

"As to you, soldier." Gala responded, sitting in the ice and snow.

They sat in a warm, awkward silence for a few moments, as the eve began to begin it's drift into darkness.

"That conversation led nowhere." The boy commented.

"Yeah I thought something was going to come out of that." Gala agreed. "A fine blade you have there, soldier."

"Thank you, ma'am. I work hard to keep it in a condition to give our enemies a quick and painless death." He replied.

"Why must it be painless? Their leader killed our king. They should pay for it just as much." Gala remarked.

"I just... don't like killing other men that much. They have a family. I used to hunt beasts of the wild for the thrill, and to protect the people of Cyrodiil, or Skyrim, or wherever I was. I suppose killing makes you a monster, too."

"It only makes you a monster if you don't feel, boy. I understand what you mean, but we need to protect Skyrim from the Stormcloaks, whether that means killing all of them, or killing their spirit." Gala responded, trying to ease his troubles. "Who are you exactly, kid? Give me details. This camp already has me bored out of my mind."

"I'm Cius Denmar, I'm from somewhere in Cyrodiil, I just don't know where exactly. I was always in the move when I was younger, my parents were either drunkards or thieves, but they died when I was young... I think." Cius started.

"Denmar, you say? I've heard about your praise, they're proud to have you on our side, especially with that sword arm of yours."

Cius smiled, as he continued. "I grew up until I was 13 in orphanages here and there. I never got taken in, or anything like that. I managed to get out on my own at 14, with a crossbow and a few bolts to spare. My aim was... poor to say the least, but I was able to sell it in for a steel blade. It didn't have a hilt, but I managed to figure out how to get one on, and I started fighting those little goblin things in the sewers."

"I can confirm that those things are very nasty. Bit me once." Tavan added, laying down on a cot of hay he brought from the carriage.

"Where'd you hide that thing when we were walking?" Gala asked, very confused.

"Same place you hid your very large collection of dragon bones." Tavan remarked.

"What?"

"In my shoes."

"I have a travelers pack, Auxiliary."

"Let's see how this boy's story continues."

 _"Don't dwell on me. I'm not coming back, you know that's not how it works. This wasn't your fault, none of it was. Just continue your life, and remember me as a friend, a son, a partner, a love, anything, but don't dwell on me. Don't dwell on my pain."_

"And here I am, in the Imperial legion, 4 years later with a scar on my shoulder and a really bothersome bump in my knee."

"You're... 17?" Gala raised her eyebrow.

"Yes ma'am." Cius responded, with a tired cheer in his voice.

"Most enlistees your age would run at the first sign of conflict. You're a brave lad." Gala, complemented, standing up as she prepared to head to her tent.

"I'll take that in mind, Captain Gala. Thank you." Cius responded. "I'll probably... stay and tend the fire, I suppose. Don't really want everyone dying from the frost."

"Especially not me." Tavan added.

Cius snorted at Tavan.

"Hey! I just don't want to die so undignified!" Tavan.

"You're a Bosmer, Tavan. If you die it'll probably be from an arrow to the face and half of your leg missing before frost gets you." Gullar laughed tiredly from the left-most tent.

"He thinks Falmer and Bosmer are the same thing..." Tavan mumbled.

Gala awoke early in the morning, while the sun was low and a sharp cold rang in the air. Most of the camp, aside from the horses and the quartermaster setting up, was soundly sleeping, including Legate Rikke, who had arrived later in the night.

Cius was face first in the stones, dead-sleep and snoring loudly, while Tavan was astray in the tent next to Gullar.

Gala decided to practice her "loud and annoying voice skills", as Tavan put it, or, in laments terms, shouting.

She had long since finished her training with the Greybeards, and had gotten quite adept with the Thu'um.

She managed to wake the entire camp up with "Yol", while she re-lit the embers of the flame.

"By Malacath's knuckles it's barely even morn! Quiet down." Came a shout from the quartermaster.

"Just trying to warm the place up, quartermaster." Gala responded.

"Use a fire spell for Gods' sake!" He returned.

Gala frowned, thinking on her indifference between the two.

She shrugged, and sat down by the freshly burning fire, which began to singe Cius' hair, waking him up.

His medium length thick black hair was too cold and wet to catch fire, luckily, but the wretched feeling woke him up anyways.

A few hours had passed, and now the encampment was bustling with Imperial life, and duties.

"Captain." Legate Rikke called from the command tent.

Gala strolled over from the anvil, where she had been working on iron swords to assist the quartermaster.

"Yes ma'am?" She asked, stepping under the low flaps and in to the tent.

"As I'm sure General Tullius informed you, both us and the Stormcloaks are after the Jagged Crown."

"Aye, I am."

"Well, we've located the crown, and we fear the Stormcloaks have too."

"Well, where is it then?"

"An Ancient Nord tomb just south east of here, called Korvanjund."

Gala wasn't the largest fan of Nord Burial grounds, and this one had the full package. Stormcloaks, and probably draugr.

 **(End note: The Imperial questline and ranks are clearly altered slightly, as displayed here, as in most canonical cases, Captain is above Legate, but in Skyrim, it appears to be opposite, which is the way it will be. The quest line and the Dragonborn's story have been altered, as she is Captain, and has been in the legion for much longer than would've been in the actual game.**

 **That's about it, I'll take any criticism, and I hope you guys enjoy the story!)**


	2. Chapter Two: Battle of Korvanjund

**Thanks for all the support the story has gotten so far! If I may clear things up a bit to help you understand the story;**

 **Yes, Cius is clearly Percy, it's almost in the name. But, he isn't the same Percy, it's a rebirth, which the story behind will be revealed later on. HaywireEagle was very close on what was going to happen with his character, but because it's a rebirth, he won't get his powers back (or?), but he will recover some memories. The story Cius told is completely true, in the sense of the rebirth, and obviously I did say the camp was near Winterhold, although it's right next to Dawnstar, Winterhold is just a much easier waypoint to place, as Dawnstar isn't the most commonly visited city.**

 **Hopefully this helps clearing some stuff up. Anyways, back to the story.**

 ** _Korvanjund, resting place if the Jagged Crown._**

Cius shivered in the cold outside Korvanjund, the steel plates sticking to his upper biceps and his core, freezing him to the bone.

"As... m-much as I hate b-burial grounds, I really want to g-get inside, now." Tavan complained.

"Agreed, it's freezing out here." A close associate of Cius's, Hadvar responded.

The lightly packed area of evergreen trees would have given them little cover from possible enemies, but mixing in a bad snowstorm proved helpful, as they bunched up, trying to create heat while they awaited the arrival of the Legate.

"Hey, c-captain. Could you shout up s-some campfire?" Heming requested.

"If there are... any enemies nearby it... would... attract attention, and I'd rather not die... in the cold to some Stormcloaks." She replied.

The soft pitter patter of a horse could be heard as the snow crunched beneath it's hooves.

Up rode the Legate, with a fur wrap around her chest, and a bundle of similar furs in tow.

"Is anyone dead?" Was the first thing out of her mouth as she arrived.

"No ma'am." A soldier answered.

"Thank the gods..." she sighed, "Scouts say that the Stormcloaks have just recently managed to get the entrance open, which means that they'll deal with whatever is inside first. But in the meantime, we need to get you boys warmed up."

She threw the furs into the snow, and multiple men reached in to grab them all at once.

"Halt!" She barked.

The men looked at her in confusion.

"Captain, if you will."

Gala nodded, and walked towards the furs, igniting a flame spell in her palm.

She pressed her hand into the furs, igniting them in a blaze.

Legate Rikke threw a bundle of wood on top of the fire, causing the flame to roar up, creating enough heat to melt much of the surrounding snow.

The soldiers gathered around the fire, warming themselves up as much as they could.

"Maplewood, Denmar." The Legate called them over.

"Yes, ma'am?" Tavan asked, crunching through the snow over towards Rikke.

Rikke brandished an odd cone like device out in front of her, motioning towards Tavan.

"A... telescope? Are we scouting ahead?" Cius questioned.

"Indeed you are. We just need to know if they're still outside." Rikke started, "If anything goes wrong, try and get back to us as fast as you can. We need to make sure we can push through the front doors."

"Understood." Tavan stated.

Rikke passed him the telescope, which was made of a very brown, corundum-like bronze. It was, of course, telescopic, giving Tavan a good amount of zoom to scout the chasmatic divot that Korvanjund was built into.

He toyed around with it, before closing it and placing it in his thigh pouch.

"Get back to us as soon as you can, auxiliary." Rikke ordered.

Tavan nodded, and started stomping through the heavy snow.

"What do we do if they're expecting scouts?" Cius asked.

"Run."

"Fair enough." Cius replied, running through the snow to catch up with Tavan.

They slunk over the snow covered hill that separate them from Korvanjund, and stopped at the top, as Tavan pulled out the telescope.

He extended it fully, pressing it to his eye and looking around the snow-laden entrance of the burial grounds.

"It's definitely being guarded pretty well... with this many men outside, I'm quite afraid of the inside." Tavan mumbled.

"Let me see." Cius returned.

Tavan passed him the telescope, and Cius lifted it to see through, as he saw exactly what Tavan

described.

There was upwards of 30 Stormcloak soldiers outside, outnumbering their group nearly 2 to 1.

"I'll stay here, you go tell the Legate." Cius stated.

"Try not to get yourself shot, kid. We'll be engaging them right now, I bet." Tavan whispered, spinning back down the hill, as the blizzard enveloped the surrounding land.

Rikke climbed the hill, encountering Cius at the top, sword out, and ready to attack the entrance.

"Dammit, they did beat us here..." Rikke commented, "Alright soldiers, we're going to storm that entrance, and kill every last one of Ulfric's men, inside and out."

"Sounds good to me." Gala responded from the front of the group.

"Let's go!" Rikke shouted, dashing down the hill, pulling her sword from her sheath.

The 15 other soldiers charged down the hill behind her, Imperial blades held high in the air.

It was a sight to see, 5 thickly armored Imperial soldiers, with 11 deep maroon leather garbed men charging behind them, standing out in the snow, and scaring the hell out of some Stormcloaks.

Rikke charged down the stone steps, as a Stormcloak with an iron warhammer prepared to swing at her.

She lifted her shield, prepared to block, and pointed her blade out in front of her.

Steel met and overtook chain mail, diving through it and right into the soldiers chest, as he crumpled to the floor, dropping his axe.

Cius was absorbed by a group of three, while Tavan blocked and swung blindly with a bent and broken greatsword.

Gala must have been a terror to the Stormcloaks as she charged, wearing a stone cold look on her face, and a fire alit in her eyes. Her slices into the Stormcloaks' cloth and chain mail dropping them with ease, as the Imperials swiftly took out the Stormcloaks at the entrance to Korvanjund.

"Watch your right, boy!" Tavan shouted, plunging the broken sword into a Stormcloak who was preparing to swing for Cius.

Hadvar had sheathed his steel blade, and had pulled out his bow, drawing it back as he shot up at the few remaining Stormcloaks huddling right in front of the door, hitting one in the stomach, as he drew another arrow to fire, before seeing Gala charging into the group, taking all three down.

"Magnificent yet horrifying." He commented.

"Agreed." Cius remarked, pulling his sword out of a dead Stormcloak.

The Imperials hadn't been scathed at all during the attack, the element of fear and surprise winning for them.

Legate Rikke climbed the stairs towards the entrance, and turned around to face the gathered soldiers, who were celebrating the small skirmish.

"We've got much more to do, Legate. We haven't even gone inside." Gala said, stepping up next to her on the ledge.

"Indeed we haven't, Captain." She turned to face the soldiers, "We've taken them down out here, and we will in there, too! As long as the entrance is secure, they cannot escape, or enter. Let's go find that crown!"

Cheering erupted from the 14 soldiers gathered below, as they began charging up the steps towards the entrance, pushing it open.

Gala followed close behind, as her body warmed up upon entrance, feeling the warmth of a real fire next to her.

Bandits had been camping here before the Stormcloaks had arrived, shown clearly by the dead dark elf laying next to the flames.

"What was that?" A Stormcloak called from within the entrance hall.

Gala lifted her finger to her mouth, as she snuck closer to the hall.

"Bjorn, is that you?" The voice was closer this time.

Footsteps were audible now, as the Imperials lay silent near the door.

"Bjorn?" A Stormcloak walked through the door, "What in Oblivi-"

Gala plunged her sword into his throat, swiftly pulling it back out as he dropped to the floor.

She pressed her back to the wall, sighing with relief, and she motioned the Imperials to enter the main room.

They all rushed in, as the small group of Stormcloaks turned in surprise, drawing their weapons, but they were too slow, as she shouted them across the room.

Their bodies flung into the air, hitting the ground lifelessly with sickening speed.

"That takes care of that, I guess." Cius mumbled, lowering his sword.

"Maplewood, Sipus, guard the entrance. Make sure no Stormcloaks get in, or out." Rikke ordered.

The two soldiers agreed, as the rest of them advanced down the steps and into the tunnels.

"I hate this place already." Hadvar commented, shaking his head.

As they descended the steps, they entered a larger room, with many wooden rafters and beams, as multiple Stormcloak soldiers drew their weapons from all around them. 7 to be exact.

The Imperials readied their weapons, taking out a majority of the group with ease.

The last three wouldn't give up, as an Imperial engaged, they readied themselves, parried his first blow, and plunged a steel battle axe into his shoulder, dropping him to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Hadvar raised his sword and charged, and Cius followed right behind.

Cius plunged his sword into the mace-wielding one with ease, killing him on the first blow, but Hadvar's blade had trapped itself against the hilt of the last Stormcloaks axe, who began to overpower him.

"A pox on Skyrim, boy." The Stormcloak laughed.

Gala charged in from his right, spinning around to his back, and slicing his head clean off, saving Hadvar from an unwanted death.

Hadvar lowered his sword and stood silently wiping his brow.

"Thank the Gods for that save..." he mumbled.

They lowered themselves to the bottom of the room, as Legate Rikke stared silently at the hall leading to the next room.

"I don't like the look of this. 10 to 1 they're waiting to ambush us on the other side." She observed.

"There's another entrance up there, most likely to an upper balcony. I could go up and distract them, while you guys sneak in and attack." Gala offered.

Rikke thought for a moment before nodding her head.

Gala climbed the stairs up to the upper door, and disappeared within it.

A few moments later, a shriek was heard from inside, as the sound of fire and explosions rang out from with in.

"That's our cue." Cius said, pushing up and through the corridor.

In similar fashion to Legate Rikke, Cius raised his shield and pointed his blade forward, charging into the enemies, half of which were burnt to a crisp, or currently burning.

He engaged in a heated lock with a Stormcloak soldier, as she snarled at him with a vicious glare under her steel helmet.

She swung for his left, as he parried the strike and swiped for the opening below her heart.

She stumbled backwards, lowering her sword and pressing her hand to her chest, before a fury rose in her eyes and she rushed for Cius.

Cius sliced across her chest, which caused heavy damage to her armor and organs, as she fell to the floor, bleeding.

She muttered silently to herself, before closing her eyes, and she stopped breathing.

~~Time Skip~~

Gala fiddled with the Ebony claw for a few moments before twisting the dials on the puzzle door and pressing the claw in, twisting it.

"Done and done." She said, placing the key in her pack.

They watched the door slide down and into the floor, as they progressed into the next room.

They ran through the stone halls, making multiple turns before entering another room.

The other hallway was blocked by a gate.

"I don't like the look of this..." Heming muttered, gripping his sword.

The Imperials scanned the room, searching for a way to open the gate.

"Captain, look around up top for a lever, that might do it." Rikke ordered, searching around the caskets.

"Found it." Hadvar said, pointing to a small handle next to the pathway crossing over them.

Gala climbed the steps around and up towards the path, and she pulled the lever a few moments later.

"That should do it, let's get mo-" Rikke started, before the caskets starting kicking open, and draugr flooded the room.

"Stay calm, it's just some measly bone walkers!" Rikke shouted.

The Imperials had trouble with the draugr, as they quickly began swarming them, and wildly swinging their ancient blades.

Gala took hold of one of their waraxes, slicing said draugr across the chest, as she continued taking down the draugr around them.

Heming stabbed a draugr through the chest, running him into a wall.

"Hey Cius! I did it!" He shouted.

Cius laughed, before turning over to Heming.

"Heming look out!"

He shouted, pushing away the draugr surrounding him, as he sprinted towards Heming.

A draugr came behind Heming, stabbing him in the side.

He didn't have enough time to pull the blade out, as Cius barreled into him with his shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

Cius stabbed him through the heart, before grabbing Heming.

"Behind you..." Heming groaned, weakly.

Cius spun around, slicing the charging draugr by the legs, causing him to stumble, before swiftly cutting off his head.

All the draugr in the room had been killed, as Heming rested against the wall, with the sword still in his side.

"Is everyone okay?" The Legate questioned.

"Heming got stabbed pretty bad, but I think he might be able to recover. Does anyone have any healing potions, or gauze, or anything?" Cius shouted, panic in his voice.

"I've got potions and gauze." Gala responded, walking calmly over to Heming.

She forced him to drink a potion before pulling the sword out and wrapping his into abdomen in gauze, helping him stand and walk.

"Heming, make your way back to Tavan, he might be able to help." Cius stated.

"Gladly..." he responded.

"Aye, go do that, Quaestor. It might be best to ask him for further help, he was studying in the school of restoration before coming to Skyrim." Gala added.

Heming limped out of the room, as the remaining soldiers continued down the next corridor.

The door at the end was heavy, iron, and unlocked.

"This is it, men. If the crown is anywhere, it's through this door." Rikke started pushing it open.

The door squealed open, and they could see the inner crypt of the Korvajund temple.

"Hey, that's nice." Gala said, pushing ahead and towards the back of the room, where a wall with the inscriptions of many words of power stood.

She studied it for a bit before returning to the group nodding.

"Alright men, spread out, and look for the crown." Rikke ordered, heading warily into the room.

The crown was hidden in plain sight, as they searched high and low to find it.

In the center of the room, a dormant Draugr scourge rested on a throne, wearing the crown on his head.

Hadvar cautiously approached, stepping up on the ledge that held the throne, and two caskets next to it.

"Legate, I found the crown, I think." Hadvar said, turning to face the Legate.

"Good work, Hadvar, see if you can take it off-"

The Draugr began to stir, as the caskets kicked open, and wights filled the room.

Hadvar turned to face the Draugr scourge, preparing to unsheathe his sword, but the Draugr was too fast for him.

" _Fus_ ," Hadvar's eyes widened. " _Ro Dah_!"

Hadvar flew backwards hitting the far wall.

"Gods... dammit." He muttered, before going out cold.

"Captain! Deal with the crown! We'll take care of the rest of the Draugr!" Rikke shouted towards Gala.

Gala dashed towards the scourge, raising her shield and bashing him in the face, causing him to stumble. She lifted her sword, and swiped, only to be blocked by his ancient battle axe. She kept slashing at him, trying to lower his stance, but he held.

Imperial soldiers and Draugr had fallen, with an Imperial victory in Korvanjund to suit, as Cius and the other soldiers charged to assist Gala, they eventually overtook the scourge.

Gala stabbed him in the chest as he lay helplessly in the ground, and the light in his eyes dimmed into nothingness.

Cius pulled the crown off the Draugr's head, looking it over before handing it to Gala.

"What do you want me to do with it?" She asked.

"You killed it." Cius answered.

Gala shrugged in apparent agreement.

Rikke walked over towards the throne, studying it, before turning around and facing the soldiers.

"Good work today, men. Our victory here will ensure that none of the lives lost in this tomb will be in vain." Rikke spoke, "Captain Gala, I want you to bring the crown back to Solitude and turn it over to General Tullius. Denmar, get the boys guarding the front back to camp, and Hadvar back to Solitude."

"What about the Pale Camp, ma'am? Should I come back after I get Hadvar to Solitude?" Cius asked.

"General Tullius will take care of you're assignment. You've done enough in the Pale. Just make sure Hadvar makes it to Solitude, boy."

Cius nodded, running towards the back of the room where Hadvar slumped. He picked him up and slid him over his shoulder, walking to follow Gala out the Crypt's passage towards the entrance.

 ** _Castle Dour, Medical Ward._**

Hadvar slowly awoke in the cot, feeling the ice and bandages around his head.

"How long was I out?" He asked, opening his eyes, seeing Cius walking towards him. "Cius?"

Cius counted on his fingers, turning to Hadvar.

"3 weeks."

Hadvar exasperatedly shot up, opening his jaw in worry.

"Relax, it was a joke. Only a few hours. You took a pretty bad hit to the head, but the healers patched you up fine." Cius started, "You've been in that bed for about an hour now, we just got here from carriage."

"You had me worried, friend." Hadvar said. "What happened in the camp?"

"You're being garrisoned to Fort Dunstad, General's orders." Cius answered, "Well, as soon as they capture it, at least."

"And you?" Hadvar asked.

Cius grinned.


End file.
